When Help Is Needed
by Elinde
Summary: Legolas is forced to grow up quickly when Thranduil can no longer help him.


This story was written for the Teitho _Growing Up _challenge but I was unable to send it via my e-mail address because a subscription is needed. As I am a technophobic, I didn't go through the subscription. But every cloud has a silver lining. Not entering it in the contest means I can post it here now. Please R&R.

* * *

Galion did not know why he was lying flat on the floor, only that that was his current situation. The right side of his head pounded from when he had hit the floor. He decided that his best option was to stay lying down until the pounding had subsided rather than getting up, only to be overcome with dizziness and fall down again. This option would also give him time to wonder how he had got into this mess.

Beside the butler lay his king's satchel, the one he always took when out on short journeys. This journey was very significant; he was taking his young son, Princeling Legolas, up into the foothills of the Misty Mountains in search of Wargs. Legolas had never been on such a serious mission before. Personally, Galion thought it stupid and irresponsible of the king to make his son's first scouting mission such an important and dangerous one. Why couldn't they have just gone down to the southern end of the forest? There was no evil there; even though King Thranduil was adamant that evil was coming. The boy clearly wasn't ready for such an expedition.

Galion had now remembered that he had been bowled over by the prince who was running as fast as he could to the stables; he was clearly over excited about the whole venture. The lad hadn't even stopped to apologise to the butler as he fell in his wake. Galion growled at the memory.

Dimly, he could hear the sound of approaching footsteps; steps which were slightly uneven. The sound grew louder and louder until a pair of boots stopped just in front of Galion's face. The boots were made of suede dyed emerald green; their soles were made of a dark, strong wood. But it was not these factors that made Galion know who it was that was now regarding him with a withering gaze. It was the height of the heels; about 2 to 3 inches. Only one person wore heels _that _high on a regular basis.

"Mae govannen, Sire." He said, his voice slightly muffled due to his position.

"What on Arda are you doing on the floor?" Thranduil asked, his voice clipped with frustration.

"I do believe that Princeling Legolas had something to do with it, your majesty."

"He is no longer a child, Galion, so refrain from using the term 'princeling'." Thranduil retorted.

"Begging your pardon but he is well off adulthood still where his responsibility is concerned." Galion said, a little hurt. Thranduil sucked on his teeth.

"Why are you still on the floor?" He asked before picking up his satchel and carrying on his way, flicking his golden hair behind his shoulders as he did so. Galion got to his feet and dusted off his knees before remembering his duty.

"Hannon-le, sire, for removing your satchel from my responsibility." He called after the fast disappearing monarch. A regal snort was all he got in reply. "I'll bet my last coin that he's been pulling his hair out over this!" He mused before heading back to the palace kitchens.

oOo

The Greenwood stables were a hubbub of activity. Four stable hands were tacking up the king's and the prince's horses, while three members of household staff were checking that all the necessary supplies would be taken. In the middle of this chaos stood Legolas, getting in the way, as usual. He didn't realise that this was the case as all he wanted to be was helpful.

"Can I carry anything for you, Luthuithîr?"

"No, your highness, I can manage, thank you."

"_I_can tack up Gwirith, Nellamath. It needn't be a burden upon you."

"I have half done it already, my prince. It would take longer for me to stop and you to carry on."

"Maybe it would be better for all concerned if you were not here right this moment." A powerful voice said from the doorway.

"Mae, my lord-king." Legolas said while the rest of the stable block fell to its knees with a sickening thud. Thranduil grimaced.

"_Please _be careful when you do that! It is no fun at all having weak knees." He advised them through clenched teeth, subconsciously massaging his own left knee. The various servants rose while Legolas bowed and left.

"Here," Thranduil said, taking off his satchel and dumping it at the feet of the household staff, "yet another thing for you to check over."

"You seem to own a quicker, harsher temper than normal, sire, if you don't mind my saying so-" Nellamath began.

"Well I _do _mind you saying so." Thranduil snapped back whilst pulling his fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time. It was a sort of nervous twitch that he acquired when stressed. It had first reared its head during the War of the Last Alliance and it always left the king's hair looking like something had attacked it.

"Maybe you should cancel or postpone this trip until Legolas is a little more, _mature_." Nellamath advised. Thranduil looked scandalised.

"Why does everyone think my son is not capable of accompanying me on this mission?" He asked, readying himself for the response.

"If many people say the same thing, mayhap you should listen." Nellamath had fallen head first into the trap. Thranduil walked up to him until their noses were almost touching.

"When you are king of this realm," he whispered, "then you can tell me what I should and should not do." Nellamath took a step back. Thranduil clicked his heels together, span round on his toes, and marched out, scattering Elves in every direction.

"I wish _I _was that elegant when angry." Luthuithîr commented.

"Speak for yourself." Nellamath replied, sitting back down. "I'll tell you something for nothing! He's not doing himself any favours in going through with this." He had watched the king as he left and had noticed he was limping slightly on his left leg, but he would stray out of his place if he said anything.

oOo

Legolas hummed to himself as he prepared to leave. He was wearing the uniform of the Greenwood archers, with a full quiver of arrows and a bow to match. A long dagger hung from his belt. He studied himself in the full length mirror. Well, he certainly looked the part even if he had only been a warrior for a few months. His reflection smiled back at him: the smile was young and carefree, a very different expression from the smile of his ancient, battle hardened father.

A knock came on the door.

"Nimmo."

Thranduil came in, dressed in the same fashion as his son, except he had a long sword at his belt instead of a dagger. Legolas didn't possess a sword yet.

"Well?" Legolas beamed. "What do you think?" He span round on the spot.

"You look like an archer." Thranduil stated, not certain as to the significance of the question.

"Isn't it fantastic?" Legolas asked, passing his tongue over his exposed teeth.

"No." Thranduil answered brusquely. "Battle dress means _battle_, lad. There is nothing 'fantastic' about battle."

"What about the honour and glory?"

"What about the loss and fear?" Thranduil countered. He had lost his father in battle and defied anyone to call the business 'glorious'. Legolas saw the tension in his monarch's eyes and knew to back down. He desperately searched for a different talking point and settled on his father's shoes.

"You're still wearing those suede boots, sire." Legolas said, his eyes glinting with mirth.

"I know. You do not have to rub my nose in the fact that I am short-"

"You're not short!"

"For a Sinda, I am short. Politics, my lad. I do not expect you to understand. But come, the horses are waiting. Let us go."

He held the door open for Legolas before turning to go himself. As he did so, his left leg collapsed. He fell downwards, grabbing anything that came to hand. His vision clouded over with panic; his knee was weak again. He would need to be extra careful.

oOo

In the courtyard beyond the stables they found their horses surrounded by Elves. Galion had returned from the kitchens and was once again in charge of Thranduil's satchel. Legolas had wanted to take a bag as well but there was only need for one and the staff didn't trust Legolas with the supplies carried in it.

Thranduil swept into the yard, removing his quiver as he did so. When he took his satchel from his butler Galion proceeded to tell him what it contained.

"Well, you've got a spare knife, tinder, basic medicine, a needle, thread, bandages which can double up as a joint support,-" He would have carried on if Thranduil hadn't stopped him.

"Mae, hannon-le, Galion. I think I know what my own bag contains." He retorted, snatching the item from his butler's hands. Nellamath's and Galion's eyes met across the courtyard, both Elves were thinking the same thing: stress.

"Right," Thranduil said to the assembly while slinging on his quiver, "there is no need for us to linger any longer. If everything is in order then let us go afore it grows much later." The stable hands passed the reins over to the horse's master.

Legolas mounted first as he was eager to be off. Thranduil bounced off his right foot and pulled himself up when his knee gave in again, sending him back down to Earth with a jerk.

"Are you alright, sire?" Galion asked.

"Mae, I am fine!" Thranduil hissed back. His second attempt was more successful. As soon as he was seated he urged Eryn into a trot and left the courtyard before he let the pain from his knee show in his face. Legolas followed behind, regardless. As long as his father was with him, he felt nothing could go ill.

They rode on unhindered for the rest of the day. By nightfall, they had made good progress through the forest and had reached a clearing, a convenient place to stop for the night. Legolas leapt from Gwirith and stood by her head, waiting for Thranduil to do the same. This irked Thranduil.

"What are you waiting for, penneth? Go and do something."

"What, Adar?"

"Think for yourself!" came the reply. Legolas scuttled off while Thranduil set about solving the unexpected problem of dismounting. He gathered the reins in his left hand and slowly slid his right leg over Eryn's back. He gripped the seat of the saddle with his right hand as though his life depended on it.

_This would be so much harder if I rode with stirrups _He thought. _Or would it be easier? No, it would be harder. They would be yet another obstacle for my knee to overcome. Where is that boy when you need him? I could do with another pair of hands. _

Legolas was out in the nearby forest gathering firewood. Besides, he didn't know how to support an Elf. He had no reason to know.

Thranduil lowered himself slowly, careful to make sure his right leg touched the ground first. He looked like he had fallen into his horse's flank for he had still not let go of the saddle. Painstakingly slowly, he put his left foot on the ground and applied pressure; his knee supported the weight. The Elvenking could not help but smile. He let go of his prop and began to unpack the necessary food and blankets for a night out in the open.

Legolas came bounding back just as Thranduil had finished setting out the ring of stones for the fireplace. The prince dumped his load on the ground nearby.

"Further away, please." Thranduil said.

"Pardon?"

"Could you put that pile further away from the fire, please? If it remains that close a spark from the fire could set it alight."

"Oh." Legolas did his bidding while Thranduil muttered,

"Yes. 'Oh'." The out loud, he asked, "Have you got any kindling?"

"Any what?"

"Any kindling; thinner pieces of wood or leaves. They catch light easier than the main braches."

Legolas looked confused.

"I will take that as a 'no', then." Thranduil answered his own question. "Go out and get some, then. Actually, no, I will go. I know what I am looking for." He got up stiffly and winced when he heard his knee click. "Guard the camp until I get back." He ordered Legolas before leaving. As he left the clearing he ran his fingers through his hair. This was going to be a long trip.

Legolas tried to sit still but he was too excited. They were really going to the mountains to track real Wargs! This wasn't one of Cútur's meaningless exercises. Legolas found those a waste of time as the 'Wargs' were really just other archers, and you weren't allowed to kill them once you found them: but at least it had been something to do. After he had received his warrior braids all the practicing had stopped. None of his fellows had been on a proper mission yet; there would be so much for him to tell them.

He knew he should be on guard as asked but being on guard meant sitting still, so he danced around the clearing like an Elfling, his mind full of all the amazing things he was about to see. Thranduil had told him all about the Sindar's passage across the Misty Mountains when they first came here many millennia ago. The prince wondered if they had changed much and if Thranduil still knew his way around them. But even if he didn't they wouldn't get into trouble; Elves have an uncanny sense of direction and are not perturbed by the cold.

In the end, Legolas sat down by the fireplace. The night was getting older and older and Ithil had moved far across the sky from where she sat when Thranduil had left.

_If Adar doesn't come back soon there will be no need of a fire. _Legolas thought, but it never occurred to him that the king may have been in peril.

oOo

The Wargs had caught him off guard; he hadn't expected that they might have come down from the mountains. He fled into the trees, dropping the tinder he had collected and drawing his sword.

_Get to Legolas. _He thought. _Get help! _

The Wargs were gaining on him. He could smell their putrid breath. Terrible memories flashed in front of his eyes but he paid them no heed. He needed to focus on the here and now. He thundered back through the trees, ignoring the searing pain which ran all the way up his left leg. All that mattered was getting these Wargs within Legolas' range.

The ground beneath his feet was cracked by tree roots. Many snaked across the surface and some of them had even grown in an arch above it. Every other step he took was a leap over something. Every time he hit the floor again his knees were jarred. Every time his knees were jarred he slowed down a little. The Wargs were gaining on him.

The roots had also created dips which one could get one's toes, foot or ankle caught in. Frequently, he felt his foot slip downwards. His heart skipped a beat and then beat faster than before. He was panicking. More memories flashed across his eyes. He shook his head, trying to clear them but it was no longer working. Then, his concentration lapsed.

His left heel went into a gap in the tree roots. His ankle couldn't move in time so his knee turned instead. He couldn't prevent himself from screaming as his knee dislocated. He fell to the ground, unable to stand. Then the lead Warg was on him. Its jaws hovered above his face. He drew his sword and sank it deep into the beast's neck. A waterfall of blood covered him as he pushed the dead creature away from him, across the path.

The second Warg leapt over the first, making for Thranduil's chest. The Elf spotted it and moved away just in time. The teeth sank deep into his upper arm, but Thranduil was beyond pain now. With his free hand, he plunged his sword into the back of the beast's head. It too fell down dead, its jaws still clamped around Thranduil's arm. The Elf noticed, with a smile of satisfaction, that this was the current Great Grey Warg.

Upon seeing their leader lying dead, the other Wargs turned and fled, leaving Thranduil to the forest's mercy.

oOo

The howls made Legolas' blood run cold. Instinctively, he reached for his bow and set an arrow to the string and waited. But no Wargs came.

_Maybe they have met something that they did not like. _He thought. _A warrior, perhaps. _

The he heard a scream.

"By the Valar, Adar!"

Legolas sprang to his feet and ran as fast as he could in the direction he thought Thranduil had left in. Luck was with him then, for he soon stumbled upon the battle field. Thranduil had been just a bit too slow; he was no more than 100 yards from the clearing.

Legolas halted as quickly as if he'd run into a wall. His stomach lurched as the scene was presented to him. Two huge wolves, the smaller one higher than his waist and the larger one only a head shorter than he was, lay dead across the path. The fur of the smaller one was brown and the fur of the other was black and silver. Both creatures stank of the shadows and death. Both were bleeding freely. The young warrior was afraid to go near them lest either one of them was still alive. But the larger, growing fear was that he could not see his father.

He could feel tears welling up inside him. He knew a true warrior would never cry when the danger was over but he found it hard to contain them. He stared round frantically.

"Ada?" His voice was shaky. "ADA?"

"Im sí."

It was only then that Legolas noticed the form lying beside the black Warg. It was covered in blood and its left leg was bent at a strange angle. Thranduil noticed his son's terrified gaze.

"The blood is not all mine." He said, trying to smile but grimacing instead.

"But you're still hurt."

"Only in two places."

Thranduil's eyes flicked shut as he battled to remain conscious. He breathed out a long, shaky sigh.

"I must rest, ion-nín. The situation is in your hands now..."

Legolas started when his father went limp. He rushed over to him and searched frantically for a pulse. His own heart slowed as he found one, but his problems were by no means over. Next, he had to get his father's arm out of the jaws of that filthy Warg.

He moved over to where the animal lay. Its fangs were sunk deep into Thranduil's arm. Gently, lest he jog his father, Legolas lifted up the beast's head and supported its jaw on his knee. This left both his hands free and he would need both hands. He slipped his fingers into the beast's mouth, as close to the jaw's pivot as he could. He pulled the head upward, praying that the jaw would stay where it was: it did. He put his right arm under the roof of the Warg's mouth, up to his elbow. With his left hand, he eased Thranduil's arm off the fangs and laid it as best as he could across his father's chest. Then he removed his right arm. The beast's jaws snapped shut with terrifying speed, but Legolas didn't notice.

Now that the teeth were removed, Thranduil's wound was bleeding freely. The sleeve of his tunic was soaking up fresh blood; so much blood that it was no longer green but a dark, muddy red.

_The medicine! Where is the medicine? _Legolas' fear was making it hard for him to think. _In Adar's bag, which is where? In the clearing! _

He bolted back to the clearing and gazed round frantically. He could not see it. Where had Adar put it? His vision was clouding over. Thranduil was going to die and it would all be _his _fault. He stumbled out of the clearing and tripped over an unexpected obstacle: the bag! With trembling hands, he picked it up and ran back to Thranduil.

Legolas dropped down beside him, took out his knife and cut away the fabric around the wound; there was no time to take the garments off. He fumbled in the bag and found cloth, needle and thread. He threaded the needle as quickly as his shaking hands would allow. Using the cloth, he dabbed away as much of the blood as he could. Then, mustering up all his courage, he held the two sides of the first wound together and began stitching. He was not, by any stretch of the imagination, skilled with a needle. The ragged stitching showed this, but they held the wound closed. The other three gashes were treated quicker than the first and each set of stitches was neater than the preceding one.

When he had finished, Legolas sat back on his haunches and regarded his handy-work as if it were embroidery. He smiled and, for a moment, forgot where he was.

"Not bad!" He praised himself. "Didn't I do well, Adar?"

Tears threatened as he was brought out of his momentary fantasy. Blood was slowly soaking up the thread. The wound needed to be bandaged.

In a weird state of calm, the prince reached into the bag and withdrew the roll of bandages. Slowly, he wrapped one end round and round the upper arm until the blood no longer soaked through. Legolas was pleased to see that this happened quickly. He used his knife to cut off the remainder of the bandages and secured the end. When this was done he leant back and wiped his brow.

"Finished!" He breathed. He knew he had _not _done it how the healers would have but as long as he remained prince he did not care. In utter bliss, he closed his eyes, only to reopen them as he remembered the left leg.

"Why do you have to be so difficult?" He chided his father, whose skin was as white as ivory due to loss of blood. "How am I going to treat that?" He wailed, punching the ground in frustration. He leant forward with a groan until his forehead touched the forest floor. He closed his eyes, willing this all to be a bad dream; wishing that at any moment he would hear his father's musical voice scolding him for falling asleep on guard, telling him that he had deserved his nightmare.

But instead another conversation floated into his mind:

"_Well, you've got a spare knife, tinder, basic medicine, a needle, thread, bandages which can double up as a joint support,-" _

"_Mae, hannon-le, Galion. I think I know what my own bag contains."_

"-Bandages which can double up as a joint support." He repeated out loud. He grinned at the dirt. "Galion, sometimes I could kiss you!" He yelled, pulling himself up and punching the air with delight.

He eased Thranduil's leg into its correct position. Relocating the joint properly was not an easy task, but after a few agonising minutes- in which Legolas was very glad that his father was completely out cold- it clicked back into position. For a few long seconds, he froze, unable to believe what he had just done. Gently, he moved the joint. It worked, perfectly. Legolas couldn't help but laugh out loud.

After a while, he collected himself and bandaged up the knee. This was harder and took longer than the wounds had done, for Legolas needed to imagine the strains on the joint and bandage accordingly. As he had never experienced a knee injury, he found this quite difficult but he came to the conclusion that he would get one sooner or later- and when he did he would sincerely wish that he hadn't.

Suddenly, he greatly pitied his father, for he had had a weak knee for most of his life and knew full well how much it could hurt. Legolas remembered all the times when he was small that he had tried to leap up into his father's lap, regardless of whether he was sitting down or not. With a pang of guilt, he remembered how angry he had been that his father sometimes kicked him off: and the guilt only increased when he realised how much pain he must have caused his beloved Adar when he put all his weight on his, Thranduil's, left knee after specific instructions for him not to do so just to spite his father or for no reason at all. Legolas felt tears prick his eyes as he remembered how patient his Adar had been on these occasions, how he had asked politely for Legolas to shift his weight. Only after he had been ignored for a long while of asking did he throw his son off him. And his son, his self-centred son, had cursed his father for that. As he wiped the tears from his checks, the same son was glad that this had happened, for now he understood what his father had put up with. Now, he could see.

"I'm sorry, Hîr-nín." He whispered, meekly. All the things he had done to help his father just now were insignificant in his mind. In his mind, he still had a huge debt to pay his king, a debt that he would never be able to repay.

By this time, Anor was rising. Legolas could not believe that twenty-four hours before he had been still in bed in the palace. To him it seemed more like a fortnight. Shafts of light pierced the dense canopy above the two Elves.

As Anor's light warmed his head, Legolas' mind cleared. He realised that, at the moment, pitying his father was not going to help him. They needed to get home. Suddenly, another thought hit him. If they had made the journey here in few hours than there were of daylight, they could make it back, even in their current state, just as dusk was falling.

Legolas packed everything back into the bag and slung it across his shoulder. With the upmost care, he picked up his father and carried him back to the clearing. He laid him down next to Eryn and told her to:

"Guard him with your life!"

Eryn snorted at the redundancy of the order.

Swiftly, Legolas packed up their belongings and secured them to Eryn's saddle, He was going to ride Gwirith back, holding Thranduil in front of him. He dared not ride Eryn.

Once everything was secured, he whistled for Gwirith, who came trotting into the clearing almost immediately. Legolas prayed to the Valar that things would run this smoothly during the journey home. He asked Gwirith to kneel down and placed Thranduil on her withers. He then mounted himself and nudged her up. She rose and, after a word from Legolas, trotted homeward with Eryn following behind.

oOo

Galion didn't know why but he knew something had happened. He woke just before dawn unable to tell himself why. He just had this gut feeling that he should be donning his armour and riding to Thranduil's aid; he and Thranduil were firm friends, though, through mutual consent, they endeavoured to pretend otherwise in public. Galion was slightly better at this than his Sinda counterpart.

He got out of bed and dressed slowly. After a while, however, the feeling passed and he thought no more about it until just before dusk that evening.

oOo

As the light slowly left the sky, the sound of horses' hooves reached the ears of the palace guards. They looked at each other, silently deciding to stay at their posts and await developments. In the gathering gloom, they saw, to their surprise, first Gwirith, then Eryn round the last bend in the road before the palace. To their greater surprise Eryn was riderless and Prince Legolas was holding his father in front of him on his horse. The guards' expressions turned from surprise to shock.

As soon as they were in earshot, Legolas shouted:

"Well, don't just _stand _there, fetch a healer or six!"

The two guards nearest the gates ran inside while the others rushed to help their prince. As soon as Thranduil was in their hands Legolas let go of reality and let his mind wander. In a stupor, he dismounted and allowed himself to be lead away from the scene by Galion who, upon hearing the guards' news, had rushed down to the gates with the healers.

"I did the best I could." He said, staring straight ahead.

"You did extremely well, Lasgalen." Galion praised, calmly. He had seen Thranduil in this state many times before and therefore knew how to deal with it. "Let's just have some wine and calm down."

Legolas nodded but Galion knew he hadn't heard a single word he'd said.

oOo

After a fortnight had passed the healers let a short tempered but internally grateful Thranduil lose on the Greenwood public. His previously slightly uneven steps were incredibly so now and his wounded arm was in a sling.

Thranduil was an Elf on a mission. He limped round the palace, seeking out a certain young warrior. He found him in the palace gardens, to Thranduil's joy. He hadn't been allowed out of bed by the healers yet alone outdoors and he had been able to hear his trees calling to him through his window. But before he could go to them he had to go to the Elf that was dearest to him.

Legolas heard footsteps but thought nothing of them, apart from to hope that they would pass him by. He still felt sorrowful about his Elfling deeds and did not wish for company. So when the footsteps did indeed stop by him his first remark was not very polite.

"Leave, please."

"Well, you have certainly become more arrogant since I last saw you!"

Legolas span round.

"Ada!"

Thranduil grinned.

"Is there enough room on this wall for an invalid to sit down on and rest his aching joints?"

"Mae, of course!" Legolas shuffled up, leaving ample space for Thranduil to sit.

"Good. When I see one, I shall inform him."

Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Just sit down!"

Thranduil sat down.

"Adar, I am so sorry about what I did when I was an Elfling-"

"My dear boy, do not be! You were young, you still are! You cannot be blamed for causing hurts you did not know about! Please, forget it, forget it all. You saved my life fourteen days ago; _I_ am in _your _debt."

"You heard what I said?"

"Do not be surprised! Just because an Elf is unconscious does not mean he cannot find out what was said later on, in dreams."

Legolas laughed as realisation blossomed in him mind. Thranduil put his good arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

"You learnt a valuable lesson on that fateful night, penneth, and not necessarily the lesson you _think _you learnt."

Legolas did not wish to ponder it what Thranduil meant, he just wanted to revel in the fact that his Adar was safe.

_I meth_


End file.
